


What'll It Take?

by fencingfox



Series: This October Night [24]
Category: Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: AU, F/M, Fictober 2019, Happy Ending, Hopeful Ending, Inktober 2019, Kinktober 2019, Light Angst, Pregnancy, Self-Esteem, Unreliable Narrator, Whumptober 2019, sleepy, where they meet at the Academy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-24
Updated: 2019-10-24
Packaged: 2021-01-03 13:17:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,531
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21180059
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fencingfox/pseuds/fencingfox
Summary: Since the dawn of time, Q have guided civilizations and individuals to success. Their continued interference maintains stability of the universe. This particular assignment is important to the continued success of Star Fleet. It starts with Q visiting a spiraling Tom Paris.





	What'll It Take?

**Author's Note:**

> Ahhh. So sorry! I'm so late. *cri* This week was tech week for a show I'm in and time just got away from me every day.

* * *

**| "Patience...is not something I’m known for." | secret injury | sleepy | dizzy |**

* * *

This is the third bar he's been kicked out of tonight. He should go home. ...Except, he knows where a fourth bar is. Tom stumbles to the sidewalk with his PADD in hand. He uses it to request a shuttle to _The Tower_, a bar themed after the song _All Along the Watchtower._ Tom had heard it once in the Academy when he'd first found an interest in 21st century America. The song was from the 1900s, so not 21st century, but he'd stumbled across it while doing research into another. He wonders idly if he's the joker or the thief. 

His shuttle slides in front of him. Tom double checks the license and the driver behind the wheel. They match what the application says. He slides into the back seat, hoping the driver isn't the chatty kind. He has no such luck. 

"I remember when I could drink and party all the time." Tom looks at the man in the mirror again. What strikes Tom is his hair: short but still standing on end a bit in a stark widows peak. "Meeting friends?" Their eyes meet in the mirror. 

"No," Tom answers as he looks out the window in an effort to seem unsociable. The colors of the lights outside are disorienting. He looks at the back of the seat in front of him when they make him dizzy. The driver takes that as an invitation to continue. 

"Just a night for yourself then? I don't think I've had one of those in half a millennia." It's funny: he doesn't really sound like he's exaggerating. Tom shakes the thought out and focuses on his scowl. 

"Look, I donwanna talk," he slurs. The driver focuses on the airspace ahead. Maybe he can try shuttle service next. It'd give him an excuse to avoid sleep. He strikes it a moment later when another driver cuts them off and his driver swears. He goes down the list of insults all the way to "Not fit to be a fly!" Tom smirks. He hadn't heard that one before. He'll have to remember it. They stop outside the bar a moment later. Tom pays the man via application and steps outside. The cool air reminds him he hadn't brought his jacket—another self-destructive habit he'd picked up lately. He trudges on. The bar aught to be warmer. 

He doesn't get carded at the door by the staff. He wonders if that has more to do with his worn eyes than a guess at his actual age. When he'd looked in the mirror this morning, he'd hardly recognized himself. The only way he knew it was him was from the cut on his upper cheek when he'd fought a drunk just to do it the previous night. 

Tom makes his way over to a barstool at the bar and orders a Vodka cranberry, hold the cranberry. The barkeep doesn't find that nearly as funny as he'd thought it was. He side-eyes him like he wants to make sure Tom won't cause trouble with that much alcohol. Tom displays his best, _I'm innocent, I couldn't hurt a fly, couldn't kill a co-worker_ look he can muster. It passes. The barkeep brings him his drink. Tom stares at the bottom of his glass, seeing straight through to the dark grain of the bar. Funny how something so dangerous can be so invisible. Tom takes the double shot in a quick gulp and pushes it forward for another. The barkeep makes a show of ignoring him. 

Tom groans and pushes away from the bar. If the barkeep isn't going to help him, he's not going to help the barkeep. Someone around here's going to be itching for a fight. All Tom has to do is find that someone. He scans the bar. There are a few couples sitting close under dim lights in booths (ouch), some scattered fellas are nursing drinks alone like he wanted to (unfair), and another man scans the bar patrons (perfect). 

Tom walks to the man, debating how to start a fight. Just before he gets there, another man kisses his target on the forehead. Tom turns away quickly, stomach tight, mind elsewhere. 

He hasn't been able to find B'Elanna since she'd dropped out of the Academy. Tom settles into an empty booth, holding his head in a cradle of his hands. He'd even enlisted help from a few computer science majors at the Academy under the cover of internship interviews. They'd been all too happy to help, but none of them could find anything he didn't already know about B'Elanna from William. 

She's left on October 15th, the day of the infamous Survival Basics field test. His father wasn't teaching it any more—he'd _conveniently_ stopped after Tom took the class—but he'd heard that the new instructor was worse. At first, the school thought she'd gotten lost or kidnapped. Then they got a letter from her confirming her withdrawal the next day. The school wanted to help her stay—Klingon relations and all—but she'd decided that Star Fleet wasn't for her. 

He'd heard rumors that she'd shipped with a Maquis band by the 20th and killed half a dozen Cardassian by the 25th. He has no idea the merit of them. 

He hates the idea that she's not here. For all he knows, she could be dead. A surge of panic wells in his stomach. It spills out in a yell. The patrons either don't notice or don't care. They carry on with their conversations and sweet nothings like he isn't suffering here. Their easy happiness makes him mad. He looks up, aches for a fight. His eyes drift to the gay couple in the corner that had reminded him of him and B'Elanna by their mannerisms. He's listened to enough of William's horror stories to know how to push buttons if he really wants to. 

He really wants to. He stands. _Anything_ to get his mind off of B'Elanna will do. 

"Tom," there's a hand on his chest, "stop." It's the _shuttle driver_. Tom doesn't remember seeing him in the bar. That he's here now disorients him, but Tom recovers quickly. If he's looking for a fight, it doesn't matter who it's with. Tom shoves the man back. He stumbles a few steps, stunned. "I'm _trying_ to help. It's a _rare_ year that I'm feeling truly _generous_." 

"Like hell. Go 'way." Tom lunges again. The driver side-steps easily and Tom stumbles against a table that clatters. The patron there grabs for his drink. Tom pushes off of the table intending to round on the driver again, but as suddenly as breathing, his mind is clear and he knows what a bad idea that is. He turns and glowers instead. 

"That's _much_ better. Come with me?" Tom shakes his head. 

"No. I don't know you." 

"You will." The man snaps his fingers and they are no longer in _The Tower_. They're just outside the main Academy campus. No one cares he's there (typical). It's snowing. He doesn't remember it snowing when he left today. The man smiles at him. 

"Sorry for the abrupt exit. You human folk don't always agree with instantaneous travel," his smile widens, "or me for that matter." He holds his hand for Tom. "I'm Q." Tom doesn't take it. He's heard of Q before. Omnipotent as they are, they always want something from people. Q lowers his hand. He chuckles. "And here I'd thought you'd be the friendly type." Q starts walking away from campus. It's odd that Tom isn't cold even though it's snowing lightly. He briefly questions if he's dead. Being at Q's mercies for eternity sounds like the kind of hell _made_ for Star Fleet brats, even ex-brats. 

"Where are we going?" Tom jogs (harder than it used to be) to catch up. Whatever is going on, only Q can amend it. 

"Somewhere special." He doesn't elaborate and Tom is forced to tag along. He sees a beggar woman and her daughter shuffling along the street in front of him. They don't approach him or Q. 

"They can't see us?" 

"Nor hear us. We're invisible. Ain't it _fun_?" There's a hint of sardonic sarcasm to his voice. Tom isn't going to ask. 

"Excuse me miss," the adult woman calls. She looks to be gazing beyond Tom. Tom turns, sees B'Elanna, and steps out of her way. He watches the exchange while quizzing Q. 

"What's she doing here?" 

"I think the better question is what are you doing here?" 

"Okay. I'm listening." 

"You're here to learn some lessons from the past. Some lessons you've forgotten." 

"We're in the past?" 

"Where'd you think we were? A primitive _Holodeck_?" Q shudders in disgust. "Of course we're in the past. Now watch." Tom hurries to catch up to B'Elanna. She's walking quickly with her head down. He manages to pace himself to walk backwards in front of her to watch her face. He'd forgotten how beautiful she was—_is_. She's not dead; she can't be. 

He'd know. 

He outpaces her a little when past Tom bumps into her and stops her. She swears. He recognizes it as one of her favorites. It makes him smile. They're talking now. He does his best to pay attention, but it's hard not to get mesmerized by B'Elanna. He wants to reach out to touch her cheek. Tom doesn't want to be disappointed when his hands met air, or worse, felt her warm cheek but knew she couldn't feel him. She sways forward towards past Tom. From this angle, he's not worried about her falling on him, but he wishes she would. 

"She's thinking about brushing the snow from your hair here." Q is now wearing reading glasses. It looks like he's intentionally trying to give off an intellectual look by rubbing his chin with one hand. 

"I'd probably laugh." Q nods his head appreciatively. 

"That's what she thought, too." Q snaps his fingers again. They're in her dorm now. No one's there. The leaves outside are orange and yellow. Tom has a suspicion he knows when this is. 

"What date is it here?" 

"October 15th." Q takes a seat on B'Elanna's roommate's bed. Tom reluctantly takes a seat on B'Elanna's. The smell of her hair wash jumps out of the sheets when he settles. He closes his eyes. 

How could he be so stupid? Why didn't he just check on her? Hell, he probably could have crashed with her a few nights before ever talking to William. Her roommate didn't seem to mind if he stayed the night so long as there was no sex involved. 

If he had, then B'Elanna would still be at the Academy. Tom wouldn't be a pilot, but at least he'd have her. He folds himself inward until he's settled with his head in his hands for the second time today. He isn't this way for long. Apparently Q doesn't want him to have time for self-pity. 

B'Elanna's door slams open against the wall. B'Elanna barrels inside next, slamming the door closed behind her. She takes off her bag and flings it into the corner of her room near her desk with such ease that it could have been a rubber ball. He hears a few items crack: probably PADDS. Then he hears B'Elanna crack. She slumps against the door and curls herself into a ball with her head in a nest of her arms over her knees. She's crying. Tom aches. He stands and moves just in front of her. 

"Let's see...okay first she's thinking about what a failure she is as a Klingon that she can't find a simple shelter for the night. Klingons have been living—blah blah blah." Tom looks at Q for a moment as he rattles off B'Elanna's inner thoughts. The man is laying back on the roommate's bed, throwing what looks like a stone in the air and catching it. Tom looks back at B'Elanna. She's shaking with silent sobs and, thanks to Q, not so silent thoughts. "Now, she's wondering if this is why people leave her. Here, she realizes she's just one big failure." Tom's heart sinks. He reaches out to touch her, only to be greeted with the lesser of two bad outcomes: the ghostly swipe. B'Elanna looks up, looking through him. "And this is when she decides to leave. Better she does before anyone else can." Tom turns around and sits back on his haunches to watch B'Elanna unpack her bag and repack it with essentials. 

"Why are you showing me this?" Q catches the rock and holds it. He tilts his head up to look at Tom and sighs. 

"You haven't figured it out yet?" He almost sounds board. Tom hopes that this isn't the end of this bizarre trip. He wants to see B'Elanna again. He doesn't care how. Though, holding her would be nice. Q snaps his fingers again. He's still laying on a bed—a king or queen sized bed—but Tom doesn't recognize whose bed. He doesn't recognize the room either when he stands to investigate. Q walks over to him. "You've got a lot to look forward to if you'd just be patient." Tom chuckles as he picks up a photo from the coffee table. It's of B'Elanna, standing in front of a glowing blue warp core and smiling widely in an engineering uniform. She looks so proud. Tom wonders if the warp core or engine designs were her own to be so proud. This could also be a picture of her first assignment. 

"Patience...is not something I’m known for," he answers half-heartedly. It certainly wasn't. It takes a certain amount of _impatience_, in fact, to be a good pilot. Not that he's that great. 

"Neither am I, but I'm trying aren't I? You humans really are a lesser species." Tom sets the photo down. He isn't offended. By Q's standards, humans are probably not much better than lizards. He just wants to know what happens here. Right on time, the door swishes open and he sees two figures stumble inside in each other's arms: B'Elanna and a red-shirted—_it's him_. 

It's him, in uniform, who's holding her for a kiss. 

"Tom," she complains. He kisses her neck. "I want to." She growls. "I _really_ want to." She pushes him away. "But Miral could come any day now and I do _not_ want to be in pain and horny." She shudders. "That would hurt horribly." He doesn't quite understand, so he circles around to get a better look at this possible future. Future Tom kisses B'Elanna. 

"Alright. But remember this when you're complaining we never have any time after she's born." At the end of the sentence, Tom spots B'Elanna's comically round stomach. His heart flutters. Did he—or rather—his future self do that? B'Elanna frowns. 

"We'll figure out something. Neelix and Chakotay have already offered to babysit the first week." She laughs. "I think they're both vying for godfather." He hugs her to the best of his ability and swings her side to side softly. 

"How horrible do you think we can train her to be before we set her loose on them?" 

"Well, if you want Chakotay to keep giving you helm shifts over Sickbay shifts, I'd suggest we keep her bad behavior to a minimum." He was on helm in this future? 

"Q!" He turns. Q snaps his fingers, but they don't leave. B'Elanna cries out and grabs her stomach. His face blanches, full of fear for his unrealized _daughter_. He'd always wanted a daughter. 

"Are you okay?" B'Elanna nods at future Tom, but Tom can see how pained she looks. Her Bolian mentor's comment about her working herself to the bone comes back to mind. He hopes with heart in his throat that she's taking care of herself and _Miral_. 

"I think we need to go to the Doctor." 

"Why? What's wrong?" He sounds terrified. B'Elanna glares. Future Tom seems to get the message. "Oh. OH. OH!" His eyes widen with every statement. He steps away and lowers his hands a few times in front of his chest in a hold-on gesture. "Stay right there; let me get the bag." He shuffles around the room animatedly while B'Elanna—predictably—does not _stay right there_. She moves closer to the door, using the back of a couch for support. "I'm going to be a dad!" Future Tom looks back at where he'd left B'Elanna and then notices where she's gotten herself to. He hurries to her side, looking slightly disappointed but mostly concerned as he offers his arm. "Here. Let me help you." 

With the green and white bag flung over his right shoulder and his left arm supporting B'Elanna, future Tom makes for the door. Tom follows. They shuffle at an agonizing pace to see the Doctor. B'Elanna keeps one hand on the wall. When she stops for a contraction, she squeezes future Tom's hand. The fingers already look swollen, but future Tom doesn't seem to be letting on—or caring—that he's injured. 

Eventually, they walk into a bright, sterile room. B'Elanna and future Tom shuffle to a corner biobed. Future Tom calls for an Emergency Medical Hologram and a balding man in blue appears. 

"Please state the nature of the medical emergency," he requests politely. Future Tom is helping B'Elanna lay down. The bag is on the floor against the biobed's stand. 

"B'Elanna's in labor, Doc." The Doctor springs into action. 

"Will you be assisting me, Mr. Paris?" 

"_No,_" B'Elanna growls. "I need him here." She winces and curls inward slightly while squeezing future Tom's hand. Tom steps up to the other side. He wants to smooth away the hair sticking to her forehead. Future Tom does it for him. He looks up at him. He gazes at B'Elanna lovingly and without guilt. When she squeezes his hand again, he presses his lips to B'Elanna's forehead. He whispers encouragements to her. 

"Okay, B'Elanna. Time to push," the Doctor interrupts. 

"Already?" She gasps. 

"I thought I'd told you your unique Klingon-Human physiology will be unpredictable in pregnancy." She groans. Tom looks over at Q who shrugs innocently. He turns back to B'Elanna. 

"Okay, okay." B'Elanna looks scared even if her tone is snappish. 

"You can do this," future Tom encourages. 

"On the next contraction, push." B'Elanna screams through what must be the next contraction. He doesn't even want to look at his maimed hand. It'll make him queasy just thinking about it. How this Tom can handle it is beyond him. She does it four more times, takes a break (likely maiming his hand further), and goes twice more before the Doctor issues success. Future Tom offers his hand discretely to the Doctor when he hands Miral to B'Elanna. Tom watches her coo at her baby while future Tom and the Doctor go a little away for medical aid. Q appears in Tom's vision across from B'Elanna. 

"Wanna hold her?" Tom feels his face open in surprise. 

"Yes, a million times, yes." Q gestures for Tom to hold his arms like so. When he's ready, Q snaps his fingers and the hum of the regenerator and B'Elanna's coos stop. The whole scene is frozen except for the blanketed bundle in his arms. He pushes the blanket away from her face to look at her. She stares up with the wide eyes of a baby, sputters, and then starts to wail. Tom bounces her up and down instinctively. She calms immediately and yawns wide. 

Even if she's getting sleepy, she's a beauty to look at. She has her mother's forehead. He thinks she's sporting his nose and ears—poor kid. He'd never liked his ears. They're big and—. He suddenly recalls the childhood movie, _Dumbo_. He bounces Miral and coos. He can see it already. They'll watch the movie together and then make fun of each other's ears. He senses Q over his shoulder, peering down. 

"Ah-boo! Aaaah-boo!" Q playfully voices. Either she's too sleepy to care or has already inherited her father's distrust of Q. Tom chuckles. Q snaps his fingers again and the world resumes with Miral in her mother's arms. It's like nothing'd happened. 

A click of a camera flash startles B'Elanna and Tom both. Tom looks up to see the Doctor shaking a white and black square in his hand. He shows it to B'Elanna and future Tom when he rejoins B'Elanna's side. Q snaps his fingers and the scene leaves him. 

He wakes up in his bed, of all places, and stares at the ceiling. Had he imagined it? If so, that'd been the best dream he's ever had. He rolls on his side and is surprised to see a familiar white and black square propped up on his lamp stand. It has writing on the side he sees that reads: "Visit _The Tower_ tonight. Find a man named Chakotay." Tom reaches for the paper and turns it over. He can't help but stare at the image of B'Elanna with their baby.

**Author's Note:**

> The end!
> 
> OR I guess, go read 10. _Weird is Part Of The Job_ again.


End file.
